Behind The Glass
by aerisofthewhite
Summary: A oneshot of Zack's experiance in captivity.


**Behind The Glass**

A one-shot of Zack's experience in captivity. I don't think they showed this enough in either the game or Last Order, (probably because it was too horrific) and I don't believe I've done it justice, but my profile is looking empty, and I just felt in an angst mood. Exams seem to have that effect... Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy- Final Fantasy is copyright of Square Enix.

Thank you!

- Aeris of the White

* * *

Imagine the most horrendous pain in the world- and you still couldn't describe it. At first, you feel nothing. Nothing at all. You're barely alive, just suspended in nothingness. You don't have the strength to think about anything- to contemplate what you're feeling, because nothing's there. You wonder fleetingly if this is death and then the pain begins and you know only life can hurt to badly. Spasms shoot up your legs, along your arms, through your back. And it doesn't cease, it intensifies. There's no way to stop it- you don't even know what's causing it. There's no way to move- your limbs are too weak. At least the pain reassures you that they're still there. there are people around you- you can't see so you can't see them but you can feel them there, watching you, prodding you, bringing on more pain. You try to scream but you don't have the strength. You try to move but nothing responds. You try to breath but they're taken that as well. 

Imagine going through this cycle for months on end. The constant pain, the testing, the lack of any human response except for this feeling of immense agony. No thoughts pass through your head- no trivial things. Just every day passing as slowly as it can, dictated by the intensity of the pain. At last it subsides, and you regain enough energy to open one eye. You find yourself suspended behind glass- an experiment. You mind is too dulled at first to reflect on this. there are tubes, too many to imagine, all coming out of your body, the majority filled with green liquid which doesn't belong to you. You try to swipe at them but your arms won't work. You have no control of your body- they have that now. You manage to turn your head a fraction and see another set of tubes coming out of another body. The person should be in hospital- blood still appears to be pouring out from his shoulder and his stomach probably hasn't healed properly. But instead, he's behind glass, shuddering, still feeling the pain you felt.

Imagine slowly recalling everything. The person next to you is your friend- right now it looks like he's the only on you've got. You remember how he got those fatal wounds- it's a wonder he survived, the people in front of the glass often remark. You remember all about that night and struggle to see if the others are also here. But the other glass enclosures are empty- it's just you and him. You wonder if that means the others got away or if death found them. Either way, it's better than this.

Imagine that the pain doesn't return- but sometimes you wish it would. You see your friend beside you, still unconscious, with nothing more than a whimper occasionally escaping from his lips, barely reflecting the pain he's going through. Meanwhile you slowly regain control of your muscles, but never in front of them. They don't see you watching them test on him mercilessly, sending the vaguely familiar green liquid into various parts of his body. But not to yours. You can't hear the words they say- the glass is too thick- but you can read their lips. The treatment hasn't worked on you. You're a failed experiment. They're giving you drugs to keep your muscles suppressed until they can do more tests. You almost smile. Those drugs aren't working either. Yet sometimes, you long for the pain- for a reason to be here, but they give you none. So you're trapped here, for nothing, while your friend twitches in agony.

Imagine reliving every moment of your life, again and again, longing for the things you cherished most but being unable to hold them or even imagine ever seeing them again. Your girlfriend- the last time you saw her you were fighting. She was almost yelling- so unlike her- crying for you not to go on this mission- but you had to. You almost wish you'd listened to her, now. Your parents- you wish you'd responded to their last letter, or that you'd returned home more often or even that you'd taken her to see them. Regret penetrates each memory. Such trivial things seem to matter so much more now- maybe because they didn't matter enough at the time. You think of your friend, of the people he left behind- and then wince. All of those people probably died. all he ever wanted was to be recognised as a great warrior by them- and now he's alone and in pain and being treated like an animal- o, worse. You realise you're all he's got- and when he briefly opens an eye and for a moment meets yours- almost pleading for salvation- you see in some ways you're failing him.

imagine the anger growing within you. You have no idea how much time has passed since you saw the outside world- but what is point of keeping you from it? What are they achieving through you? Suddenly it seems as if its you and him against the world. Every day is another day from everything you love- another day of pain and suffering- every day he's a little closer to death. eventually it gets too much. There's only so much a conscious person can take. Any longer and it might only be you. You don't know if he'll make it- or even if you will. All you know is that it has to be better than this- life isn't what's important any more. It's freedom that you long to see. So the next time that they open the glass and you see one coming at your friend with more green liquid, you raise a fist, ripping all of the tubes from your arm and knock the person to the ground. The vial smashes, but you don't heed it. Gently, you pull your friend down from where he's held. he buckles under his own weight, vomits and then gasps, unable to take in air- or maybe just trying to remember what breathing feeling like. His arm reaches for you and you take it and speak reassuring words and speak his name, so he knows it's you- simple things, but you know they'd mean a lot to you if you were in his position. The you wipe away his tears, cover his shivering body with your spare clothing- despite how still he's been, he's gained muscle and his own no longer fit him- and throw him over your shoulder. That first breath of fresh, unprocessed air almost sinks you to your knees, but you overcome it, remembering that you have the rest of your life to enjoy it. And then you begin the long journey home- and you don't care how long it takes, because for the moment, there's freedom- the freedom to move and speak and breathe and grasp hold of everything you ever cared for and fight, hurt, die to protect it.

Imagine the most horrendous pain in the world- and then tell me if the freedom from it isn't worth dying for.

* * *

Well, I doubt if you did enjoy that- can you enjoy the one-shot of someone's torture? Anyway, if you liked please review and point out any spelling errors (as always!). 


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